Chapter 1

On Christmas Eve, my water broke.

My husband, Mark, was in such a panic that he ran out to the car without his shoes, his bare feet sinking into the snow.

I watched as the ice and rough pavement tore at his skin, leaving bloody tracks behind us.

Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes.

But as I slid into the back seat of the car, I saw it―an opened Trojan condom wrapper.

"What... what is this?"

I struggled to catch my breath, my fingers closing around the small foil packet.

Mark glanced at it, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he quickly composed himself.

"Oh, that. I lent the car to Jake last week, remember? My best man. He took his girlfriend skiing."

He lowered his voice and shook his head with a wry smile.

"That guy. He borrows my car and doesn't even bother to clean up after himself. Last time it was a trunk full of takeout containers. This is even worse."

"I saw it earlier and sent him a message chewing him out."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and showed me the screen.

Sure enough, there was a message from him to Jake: [Dude, can you be a little more careful? You left a mess in the back seat of my car.]

Jake had replied with an emoji and a line: [My bad, man. It was just one wrapper. I’ll buy you dinner to make up for it.]

"Sarah, honey, don't overthink this. The most important thing right now is delivering our baby safely."

Looking at that text exchange, I almost believed him.

But I didn't.

Because this wasn't the first time I'd had my doubts.

Over the past few months, I'd noticed Mark deleting his call history late at night. His business trips became more frequent, his reasons always vague. Once, while doing his laundry, I smelled a strange woman's perfume on his shirt collar.

I never said a word.

Not because I didn't care, but because I needed undeniable proof.

Tonight, that proof had just fallen into my lap.

Text messages can be faked, but the slick residue on the inside of that wrapper didn't lie.

Yes.

The most important thing right now was to have this baby.

My poor child, born without a father.

...

The hospital emergency room was packed, even on Christmas.

"Honey, you're going to be okay."

"Sarah, I'll be right outside waiting for you. You can do this."

"Babe..."

Mark walked nervously beside my gurney, clutching my hand tightly.

The sweat on his brow was a testament to his love for me and our child.

Nurses and other patients glanced our way, but I was the only one who felt a cold sweat breaking out all over my body.

This sweat was for him.

He played the part of the devoted husband flawlessly.

It was a performance that had fooled me for five long years.

For months, I had watched him sleep, wondering what secrets were hidden in those deleted call logs.

Now I finally knew.

Now, the thought of that condom wrapper made my stomach churn.

At the operating room door, a nurse stopped him, telling him he had to wait outside.

"Please, take good care of her,"

he begged, his voice trembling.

The look of pure panic and love on his face was enough to move anyone.

Inside, the midwife chatted with me to ease my anxiety as she prepped.

"Your husband is a nervous wreck. He can barely sit still out there."

Another nurse chuckled.

"Right before the door closed, he told the doctor that if anything went wrong, they had to save you first."

If it weren't for tonight's discovery, if it weren't for all the clues from the past few months, I would have thought Mark was the most loving man in the world.

But hearing those words now, I felt nothing.

Love, or the lack of it, didn't matter anymore.

The sharp pain of labor mixed with the stabbing pain in my heart. I gritted my teeth, sweat pouring down my face.

Finally, an epidural needle slid into my spine, and the physical pain slowly faded to a dull numbness.

I tried to focus on giving birth, but my mind kept drifting.

A deep sadness began to spread through me.

Then, a loud cry filled the room. My baby was born.

"A handsome baby boy, 7 pounds, 3 ounces. Congratulations, Mom."

The midwife placed him beside me. I traced the features of his tiny face with my eyes, my heart melting.

Baby, I hope you won't blame me for the decision I'm about to make.

If I could, I would give you a perfect, whole family.

But your father can't give us that.